Growing in the Dark

Charlie had volunteered and he was only two months old. But nobody seemed to mind. He had asked for the job and he was to have it and no one envied him. So, on Friday evening, the thirteenth of November, Charlie left for the O’Donnell’s with his little green ladder and two extra nightgowns. Trotting in the grass with his ladder dragging in the dirt, Charlie came upon the O’Donnell’s small house. His only instruction: never blink at cats.

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Officer Gregory Musgrove yanked his bowler hat over his eyebrows, pulled his mustache into an imposing line, and knocked on the door. He was here to have a conversation with Jeff Sutton. To be exact, this would be his sixth conversation with Jeff Sutton.

The house at which Gregory Musgrove stopped was low and squalid. A painted board nailed to the door read:

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A rusted, barbed-wire fence stretched for miles between a bare country field and a sprawling forest. And on the field side of this fence were two figures; the tall one standing, the small one on the ground.

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